


Lilacs and Alstroemerias

by 8ami



Series: Kiss From Cupid Event [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Someone's Dead but IDK Who, Uh...angst-ish, a little sad, flowershop au, nothing graphic, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ami/pseuds/8ami
Summary: Prompt: “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the ‘girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft’ and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that... we’re on our way to a graveyard.”Kisses From Cupid Challenge :: Day 3 Flowershop AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't very fluffy or cute but I guess it counters out my previous fic which was all fluff... enjoy.
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are completely mine!

As he has for the last few days, Clint plucks a flower from the stand out front of the flower shop - today it’s a lilac that's the same color for which the flower is named - without breaking stride. It’s late into the evening, the shop’s on the verge of closing down for the day and Clint doesn’t even look down, doesn’t even think twice about the action. Some part of his head has connected with where he’s going with bringing flowers but as usual he’s a little too broke to afford a real bouquet even though she deserves one, and he’s been pickpocketing since he was a kid. It’s stealing but it’s just one flower.

Unlike the last few days though, a strong hand suddenly takes hold of his arm spinning him around, a few steps from the stand. “Woah - what?” Clint’s eyes go wide at the sight of the man. There’s a deep frown on the man’s face and his glare almost make Clint’s heart stop at the anticipation of the murder the man is obviously planning. 

“What are you doing?” The guy practically growls; his grip still tight keeping Clint from turning tail and running. When Clint doesn’t answer because honestly, he’s a little caught off guard at well, at being caught so red handed, the man motions down at the flower to prompt him.

“Oh, um...well okay, I guess I was taking this - ”

“You mean stealing it.” The man cuts in because he’s a jerk like that. Clint doesn’t know the jerk’s name but apparently he works at the flower shop - that or he’s a very dedicated customer - and he’s breathtakingly handsome. The cut of his jaw mimics the actors in those old black and white movies his mother used to watch. He wonders if those movies had been in color if the leading men would have had similar complexions as the man in front of him with his dark hair and startling steel blue eyes and pretty pink kissable lips and...Oh fuck, why did he notice that now? 

“Uh, yeah.” Clint agrees snapping his eyes back up to the man’s face. He had begin to let his eyes wander down the man’s form despite how the situation really isn’t open for things going in that direction. The man’s glare couldn’t be deadlier after all, he’s still frowning at Clint like he’s some street thug, and Clint is holding a flower he just stole. “Yeah, it’s that but...well, sorry?” Clint asks more than he probably should as he holds the flower out to the guy. “Here. I won’t do it anymore.” If this guy actually works here maybe he’ll start actually buying flowers. Well, he would if he had any extra cash. He’s a little more than broke due to some expenses he wasn’t expecting at the moment. 

The man huffs at the bad apology but doesn’t take the flower. “You’re the one that’s been doing this the last few days, right?” And Clint thinks about lying. Really, he does, but instead he’s suddenly weighed down by the reality that has been his life for the last week and finds he doesn’t have the strength to lie. “Yeah...like I said sorry about that.”

This time the apology is a little more well received. But the man’s grip doesn’t relax any so Clint knows their conversation isn’t over. “Why are you stealing flowers of all things?”

Damn. He was hoping to avoid that particular question. He’s not sure what to say and he’s pointedly not looking at the handsome man interrogating him. “They’re for my friend…” Clint barely manages the words. He tries to smile through them but knows it doesn’t really work and it comes out more sad than a real smile.

There must be something in his smile or something on his face because the man’s grip loosens some and his shoulders roll back a little, settling easier at the lose of his ire. A short silence and the glare is replaced by a look that says he’s contemplating what exactly to do next. In doing so, he’s studying Clint with those piercing eyes and Clint’s feeling a little exposed under the gaze. He’d rather deal with the glaring to be honest.

“Fine. Alright, come on then. Let’s see if this dame is pretty enough to warrant flower theft.”

Clint snap’s his focus back to the man as his brain short circuits. “Wha? Oh no - ” He shakes his head trying to pull backwards out of the man’s grip but he doesn’t gain any ground. 

“You don't really get a say in this.” The man clarifies without room for argument. Or it would have if he was talking to anyone other than Clint. He had to get out of this debacle. Clint looks almost desperately around for something to use as a distraction. “But the shop?” He tries, his desperation sneaking its way into his voice. 

The man arches a single eyebrow, surprise and suspicion settling in his eyes. “My coworker can handle it. And really, you’re worried about the shop you’ve been stealing from?” He almost sounds rueful. 

“Well, when you say it like that it does sound a little ridiculous.” Clint shrugged his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The flower still resting in the hand that the man’s got in his grip.

“Glad we agree. Now come on, you were going this way, yeah? Lead the way. That or I call the police.”

Clint really can't have that so begrudgingly, “...this way then, I guess…”

It takes half a block before the guy drops his hand from Clint and he doesn’t even think about running. He’s too caught up in trying to figure out what to do. How was he suppose to explain to this guy - who he doesn’t even know the name of - that no one would be waiting for them where they were going.

When he tells Kate about this later, he’s pretty sure she’s going to say that this sort of thing could only happen to him. Which really doesn’t help him in the slightest not that she’s wrong. It’s just not a helpful thought. He’s not having any helpful thoughts, though, and he’s running out of time to have one because they aren’t far from their destination anymore. The rolling buildings of the city had given away to green grass and stones declaring the names of those lost. “Um, so...where we’re going - ”

The guy cuts him off, “Don’t even think about leading me on a goose chase or something equally stupid.” He doesn’t pay any mind to the cemetery to their left. No, his eyes are on Clint with warning and something that looks like disappointment.

“I wasn’t going to. It’s just…” Dammit, they’re already at the cemetery's entrance. Clint let his feet click together outside the gate with a heavy huff because it’s hard enough coming here alone and now he has this stranger here. Beautiful as he, it’s not going to make this any easier. Clint’s grip on the flower tightens until his knuckles are a little too white and the flower’s stem is a little bent. 

The man ends up not realizing Clint has stopped for a few feet. He has to double back to Clint. He's not happy about it. “What are you doing? I just said you better not be playing me. I will call the cops.” The man’s back in his face.

Clint shakes his head and finds his voice, steadier than he thought it would be. “I’m not. This really is where I was going. I said I was coming to see a friend. I didn’t say she would be seeing me.” His words are crisp. It’s easier being mad. “Call the cops if you want.”

Clint picks up his feet and marches into the cemetery. Straight back and off to the left. He’s almost to the too fresh grave when the man catches up to him. He stays a step behind Clint so the blond can’t see what’s on the man’s face, but he also doesn’t say anything so Clint’s gonna call this one a win. He really needs a win.

With something akin to tenderness, Clint kneels down on the still turned dirt and lays the flower on top of the other stolen flowers he’s accumulated. It’s a wide variety of species and color but Clint thinks that makes the make shift bouquet better. At the very least, it’s certainly her. “Sorry, I kinda bent this one.” The words are soft, the anger gone from his voice. The stone doesn’t respond.

“Fuck man, I’m sorry.” Clint turns sharply to look up at the guy from the flower shop, standing just at the edge of the plot. He looks like he just realized he’s the biggest dick on the planet. Clint gives an uneven smile up to him but doesn’t say anything.

He turns back to the stone and thinks about how he wishes he could have afford a real funeral, a real bouquet of flowers, a real goodbye. Clint let's himself fall back on his ass, knees up so that he can rest his arms on them, hands loose and outstretched.

A deep breath in, “Just to be clear she was pretty enough to warrant flower theft. I would have stolen the damn Mona Lisa for her if she ever asked.” 

Surprisingly, the man settles down besides him on the ground. “It's hard to lose a girl like that. I'm sorry I made you bring me here.”

Clint waves him off, “Don't worry about it - I mean, I was stealing flowers from your shop.” They settle into a small silence and Clint’s kinda expecting the other man to get up and leave at any moment. He says as a much, “Why are you still here?”

The guy shrugs, “Figured you shouldn't be alone, mourning over your girl.” He says it like it's not suppose to be a big deal, like they aren't in a graveyard and Clint realizes he appreciates it. Appreciates not being alone.

He screws up his face at the words though, turning his head to look over at the guy. “She's not my girl. She certainly didn't belong to anyone. She'da knee’d you in the balls for saying such a thing.” And Clint laughs a little, the action a little rough, unused, but real. “We weren't together though if that's what you're implying. She's just my best friend. I'm not...I'm not really sure what to do without her.” He clarifies, still looking at the guy. It allows him to see the look of empathic joy transform to something Clint thinks is optimism but that doesn't make sense to out right horror before settling into understanding. It was a whirlwind to watch, he couldn't help but wonder what it was like to actually experience such intensity so quickly. He wonders if other things the man does is just as intense before ducking his gaze back to the stone.

“I thought I lost my best friend, ways back. I thought it was permanent and in those months before he came back better than ever I almost lost myself...I know it doesn't help, especially since she's not coming back but - but I understand a little.” It's the most the guy has said and Clint has half a mind to tell him to shut up. That it doesn't make it better. That it's not fair he got his best friend back. But then he realizes that it kinda does help as that lonely feeling that has seem to embed itself in him since the tragedy ebbs away a bit more. It wasn't fair. It didn't make it okay but it did make it better. Words catch in his throat and his vision blurs a little so he leans and knocks the guy's shoulder a softly with his own in thanks. The guy seems to understand, nodding sharply seemingly glad his words had been well received.

“What type of flowers does she like?” The guy asks suddenly and for a second Clint’s confused until he remembers exactly who he’s sitting with. The other man works at a flower shop, the one that Clint’s been stealing flowers from. Clint’s just meet him a few hours ago. The level of comfort in his bones say differently.

The sun beginning to dip down below the cityscape. “Alstroemerias” Clint answers without having to think about it. The guy seems surprised, Clint chuckles a little. “She liked flowers and gardening. Always looked into the meanings and such. I don’t know what it means though...I think she told me, probably a lot, but I don’t remember.” 

“It represents a life long bonds, prosperity, and withstanding trails.” The guy answers.

Clint nods absently. “That sounds like her.”

A breath in as Clint settles in fond memories. The air cooling now that the sun is disappearing. It’s a contrast to the heat that’s projecting from the other man besides Clint. “Tomorrow you can pick up a bouquet. You don’t have to steal it.”

It’s Clint’s turn to have surprise dawn his face. “What? Oh, no I...I don’t really have any money for it.” He motions to the headstone, “She doesn’t - didn’t have any family and it was unexpected. Caught me and my bank account off guard.” Bitterness sinks into his voice. It’s not from the money spent though. It’s the fact that her death was unexpected and unfair and sometimes he forgets just how much life can suck.

“You don’t have to pay for it.”

Clint’s never been one to take handouts even when he needs them, “You don’t have to do that...and once I get a little cash I’ll pay for the flowers I’ve stolen.” The words don’t seem to appease the guy.

“Yeah, you will, but when you can.” Clint turns to look at the other man, the evening lack of light making the lines of his face sharper. His eyes are trained on the headstone but Clint can tell it’s not what he’s really seeing. Then he blinks and he turns to match Clint’s gaze and Clint’s expecting pity but instead there’s a clear challenge. “Tomorrow though, you can pick up a bouquet and if you’re really the type of guy that can’t accept a gift then you can always pay me back for it later too.”

Clint’s glad he didn’t manage to run away earlier. There’s a genuine look to those grey-blue eyes. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around then. I’m Clint by the way.”

The man takes the hand Clint offers, “I hope so. Bucky.”

“Thanks, Bucky. For the flowers and for staying with me.” And he really did mean it because he didn’t realize how lonely he’s been feeling, how overwhelmed it’s all been until the opportunity came for some company. Kate’s been great but she’s grieving too so this...this company is welcomed more than he could really say.

Bucky seems to get it, just like he has got everything else which is surprising because Clint doesn’t normally click with people so easily, so quickly. “Do you want to tell me about her?” The question is as quiet as the wind that’s barely there.

Thinking about it, he shakes his head, unsure where to even start with such a question. “Maybe next time.” Which just reaffirms the idea that he’ll be seeing Bucky again which is a pleasing thought, something that makes sitting on a fresh grave a little more bearable.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore this prompt and have wanted to write something for it for while so I'm glad to have written it even if I'm not completely happy with how it turned out. My initial idea was Laura Barton was the one that was dead but I thought Natasha made more sense with the wording I choose - however, I couldn't bring myself to actually say it was Natasha so you know maybe it isn't. 
> 
> I wanted to have this lead into stargazing prompt given out for the KissfromCupid event but with only two days left it probably won't happen. 
> 
> I spent a lot of time researching what different flowers meant which took the majority of this fic. BTW, purple lilacs represent the beginning of love or a first love.


End file.
